


I Put Myself In This Position

by anysin



Series: TMA October Fills [31]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Degrading Talk, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Masochism, Power Imbalance, Sadism, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Mean teacher Jon gives Martin detention for being a lousy student. Things get out of hand.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: TMA October Fills [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946548
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	I Put Myself In This Position

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the last day of Kinktober, which had no theme so I went with teacher/student AU. Jon is mean in this one so watch out.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through this October! I appreciate you all. <3

It's always bad when Mr. Sims asks Martin to stay after class.

"Your performance has been extraordinarily disappointing in the last few weeks," Mr. Sims says, glaring at Martin from the front of the class. Martin's face heats up with shame, and he wants to look away, but he keeps his eyes on Mr. Sims, listening as Mr. Sims keeps talking: "We can't go on like this, Mr. Blackwood. You need discipline, and I'm going to deliver it."

Mr. Sims nods towards the floor. "What do you see there?"

Martin glances down, stomach dropping. "Cleaning supplies."

"For once, a correct answer from you." Mr. Sims leans against his desk, gesturing around the classroom. "You have time for the entire afternoon to make this room spotless. I want you to show me that you can be precise and thorough with your tasks, not to mention that you can complete one in the first place." Mr. Sims raises his brow. "Are you up for the challenge, Mr. Blackwood?"

_Always for you._

"Yes, Sir," Martin says.

"Very well, then." Mr. Sims crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. "Then you may begin."

*

Cleaning is hard work, because of course it is; Mr. Sims wouldn't have picked the job for him otherwise. Martin starts with the desks, scrubbing them clean one by one while Mr. Sims watches from over his own desk, his eyes heavy and intense as he stares at Martin.

"You missed a spot," he calls out to Martin, time after time. "It doesn't look clean enough. Go over it again."

Martin tries, but the scoldings keep coming, and he flushes harder over each one. He has reached the last row of desks and is trying to get a piece of gum off from underneath one when he hears Mr. Sims's shoes creak as he starts to walk towards Martin, and although Martin tries to keep going, tries to stay stoic, he can't stop his body from going stiff with fear.

"You are not doing it right, Mr. Blackwood." Having reached him, Mr. Sims's long, lean fingers close around Martin's wrist. "You have to go harder. It's not going to come off if you're just going to play with it."

Fingers tighten around his wrist and Martin's entire body heats up, and he digs his teeth into the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making any sound. His face burns when he realizes he's starting to grow hard, his cock straining against his underwear, and he hastily starts to move his hand along with Mr. Sims's as they scrub the gum off the table together.

"Thank you, Sir," he says, not daring to look at Mr. Sims.

"For doing what was supposed to be your job? You're welcome, I suppose." Mr. Sims releases him, stepping away. "You're not doing so well with your detention, Mr. Blackwood."

Martin expects Mr. Sims to return to his desk, but he doesn't; he stays right beside the desk Martin was trying to clean instead, watching Martin closely. Martin is red all over now, painfully aware of the growing bulge in his trousers, but he tries to keep it together, continuing to scrub the desk. Maybe once he's finished with this one, Mr. Sims will go back to the front of the class, and Martin can think his erection away in peace. He crouches over the desk, trying to hide his aching groin.

"Straighten up," Mr. Sims snaps. "You're not going to get it clean by lying down on it."

Biting his lip, Martin pulls up just a little bit, almost crying out when he manages to bump his hips against the edge of the desk while doing so. His cock is throbbing by now, twitching within the confines of his clothing as he attacks the desk, scrubbing it as hard as he can as he tries to ignore Mr. Sims's eyes on him, his heavy disapproval.

"What is the matter with you?" Mr. Sims asks, and much to Martin's horror, he steps closer to the desk again. "You are red all over. Are you sick?"

"N-no, Sir! Just trying to focus, Sir." God, why does he have to be so close? Why does the obvious contempt on his teacher's face get Martin so hot all over? "I'm trying my hardest, Sir."

Mr. Sims's eyes narrow.

"I don't believe that's true," Mr. Sims says. "You don't pay attention during classes, you can't answer my questions right, your work is full of errors, you are constantly lazy and sloppy. You are the lousiest student I've ever had!" Mr. Sims takes another step, slapping his hand down on the desk as he leans over Martin, staring him right in the eye. "If this is your best, it's pathetic."

And Martin _moans_.

It takes them both a moment to realize what just happened. Martin's body is burning up, but his insides feel cold when he sees Mr. Sims first frown in confusion before his eyes go wide, growing even larger as the understanding fully seeps in. Martin drops his rag, trying to step away from the desk, but Mr. Sims reaches out and snaps his fingers around Martin's wrist again, pulling him back.

"Does this _excite_ you?" Mr. Sims demands, glancing down at Martin. His eyebrows go up when he sees the swelling in Martin's trousers, and when he turns to Martin again, he's angry. "You little _pervert_."

"I'm sorry!" Martin breathes, frozen to his spot. He is scared, but he is also even more aroused now, his cock standing at full mast within his trousers as Mr. Sims holds his wrist in a vice-like grip. "I'm so sorry!"

"No, I don't think you are." Still holding onto Martin's wrist, Mr. Sims circles around the desk so they're fully facing each other, and he grabs a chair. "But I will make you sorry."

Mr. Sims pulls the chair over and sits down on it, yanking Martin over to him.

"Tell me," he says. "What does a filthy boy like you deserve?"

Martin can't believe what's happening. His cock throbs so hard he can hardly focus on anything, but he is also completely captivated by Mr. Sims's eyes, which are burning with an emotion he doesn't recognize. He should be screaming for help, he thinks, he should be putting a stop on this, this isn't right.

"Spanking," he says. "A filthy boy like me deserves a spanking."

Mr. Sims stares at him, his eyes still intense, boring into Martin's soul.

"In that case," Mr. Sims says, releasing Martin's wrist, "come here."

Martin doesn't understand what is happening, but he doesn't think he really needs to. He pushes himself into movement, scrambling over to Mr. Sims and bending himself over his knee. His cock presses against Mr. Sims's slim thigh as he does so and somehow, his already red face flushes even harder over the sensation.

"Hands behind your back," Mr. Sims says and Martin obeys in haste, folding his hands across the small of his back. He shivers when Mr. Sims grabs his wrists, pinning them down against him while his other hand slips beneath him and goes down to the waistband of Martin's trousers, pulling his belt open.

"I think I'm right to assume that you have never been spanked before," Mr. Sims says as he loosens Martin's belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers before pulling his hand away, grasping Martin's trousers from the back in order to yank them down, exposing his round rump. "It's a pity. Maybe it would have improved you."

Mr. Sims's hand strokes over Martin's buttocks, making him shiver. He wonders if Mr. Sims is going to start now, spank him through his underwear, when he feels Mr. Sims's fingers dip beneath the waistband of his boxers and start to pull them down as well, baring his arse fully. Martin's breathing is heavy now, his cock throbbing steadily against Mr. Sims's thigh as Mr. Sims's hand comes down on his arse, kneading the soft flesh.

"Well, better late than ever." With that, Mr. Sims lifts his hand. "I expect you to count, Mr. Blackwood."

The strike is sharp and it instantly draws a cry from Martin, making him arch his back. A mere second passes before another strike lands, then another one, and another, a whole rain of smacks that make Martin shake and twitch in Mr. Sims's lap, that have his cock twitching. Mr. Sims doesn't slow down, doesn't show mercy, just keeps striking him with force and speed that shocks Martin, shocks and delights him.

"I'm not hearing you counting," Mr. Sims says, his voice velvety soft. "Can't you follow simple instructions, you little pervert? You disappoint me again."

"Sorry," Martin breathes, already overwhelmed. His fingers curl up against his palms, he pants with an open mouth. "I'm sorry, Sir!"

"I don't want your apologies, I want you to count." Mr. Sims strikes him twice in fast succession, making Martin jump in his lap over each one. "Still not hearing you."

"One, two!" Martin has enough time to gasp for a breath when the next strike comes, back curving over the sting of it. "Three!"

"You have missed so many strikes," Mr. Sims comments, continuing to strike him as Martin tries his best to keep up with the count, but he keeps missing strikes, that's how fast they keep coming. "What will I ever do with you, Mr. Blackwood? You never seem to learn or improve. Today was a chance to prove yourself and you couldn't even get through that." Mr. Sims swats Martin on an already sore spot, drawing a whimper from him and making him lose track again. "What will I do with such a worthless boy? How do I get through to you, Mr. Blackwood?"

"I'm sorry," Martin pants, forgetting about counting. He is so close to coming, pre-come dripping out of his cock and soaking into Mr. Sims's slacks, his whole body shaking. "I'm sorry I'm so bad, Sir."

"Useless little pervert," Mr. Sims whispers, and his next strike catches Martin right on his tight balls.

Martin clenches his teeth together, just barely swallowing his scream as he comes hard, hips bucking against Mr. Sims as he comes all over his leg. He thrusts against Mr. Sims, rubbing himself against his clothed thigh as he rides out the wave of his orgasm, feeling as Mr. Sims's fingers come down on his sore arse cheek and squeeze hard.

He falls slack in Mr. Sims's lap, panting heavily as Mr. Sims strokes his bruised, burning arse, as his tight grip around Martin's wrists loosens. A sob breaks out of Martin, soft and quiet, followed by tears welling up in his eyes.

"Well done, Martin," Mr. Sims says, and Martin breaks.

*

Mr. Sims makes him clean the rest of the room afterwards.

"I should have put a napkin on myself," he complains to Martin while using one of the rags to wipe his slacks clean. "My mistake, but next time I'll remember that you can't be trusted to control your impulses."

Martin shivers at the promise of next time, but he says nothing, focusing on his task at hand.


End file.
